


Constant

by AuroraRoseane



Category: Original Work, The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, Angst, Cussing, Death, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Zombie Apocalypse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-08
Updated: 2015-03-16
Packaged: 2018-02-28 14:30:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 22,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2736059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AuroraRoseane/pseuds/AuroraRoseane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>MY OWN TWD SPINOFF WITH ORIGINAL CHARACTERS. RATED M JUST IN CASE. Lennie is just barely holding it together. She'll never let them in on it though. At 22, she's seen more than she ever thought she'd have to, and done things she's never dreamed of. But it's all about survival now, and she'll do anything to protect her group. Anything. So don't get in her way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> Hi guys! :) So this is my very first work of fanfic ever and I just want to say, Thanks for giving me a chance! This is a completely original story with original characters . PLEASE comment after reading. I want to know what you love and what you hate! Feedback makes me smile and post faster! Thanks! 
> 
> XOXO  
> AuroraRoseane

Constant - Chapter One

To say it happened overnight would be a bit of an over statement, and yet not. One minute it’s just an isolated case here, one there, and a few weird stories on the new about new age cannibalism, complete with an expo on the Donner party. But then it’s everywhere. The east coast, the west, up north and flooding the south, spreading from country to country until it starts jumping continents. At least that’s what I’m guessing. When the news finally went off air we lost a lot more than just weather updates. But one thing I do know, young, old, weak or strong. No one was safe. No one is safe. Death was once just an occasional reminder of or mortality. Now, death is everything. It’s everywhere. Inescapable. Death is constant. If only the dead would consistently stay dead.

________________________________________________________________________________

 

I should cut my hair. It’s far too long. Inconvenient. Dangerous even. But I can’t, I won’t. It’s down to my elbows now, wavy and untamed. The way it was when I was younger and refused to have it brushed. My little Pocahontas, my mother would say, my warrior princess. And I believed it. With my dark hair and sun-tanned skin, I could pass for Native American. And what little girl wouldn’t relish in being a called a princess? Certainly I was one, if my mother said so. If only I could be a naive 6-year old again. A warrior princess.

I guess I still could be. Leighton, to my dismay, insists on calling me Princess, although he usually doesn’t mean it kindly. I can definitely be considered a warrior. You’d have to be, to still be alive these days. But while Pocahontas fought with words and niceties, I use swords and knives. Occasionally a bow. Really I use whatever is within reach and can get the job done. And I don’t so much fight as I slay. Demolish. Exterminate. There we go. Lennox Rae Gibson, Exterminating Princess of the Zombie Apocalypse. Lennie, for short. I need to work on my official title.

I’m pulled from my musings when the car jolts to a stop. We’re here. I go through the list I’ve complied in my head again. Food, obviously, warmer clothes and blankets, sheets, anything, any medical supplies, chocolate and pickles for El because pregnant women are crazy disgusting, condoms because we don’t need anyone else getting knocked up, tampons and baby stuff. This is going to be a long winter. 

“Hey Princess, you joining us or what?” Leighton, of course. He, Wes, Dillon and Leah are all standing outside the cars waiting for me. I roll my eyes and step out of the car, taking a look at our surroundings. We stand in a desolate parking lot of what used to be a strip mall, containing a dollar store, a second hand children’s shop, a pharmacy and a small department store with a bar and grill on the end. All in all it still seems relatively put together, untouched. No Cads in sight. Which means they’re probably all still inside. Great. When I’m done with my quick scan, I bring my eyes back too my group, The Perkins family. Or what’s left of them. All blonde hair, blue eyes, Roman features and tough as nails. Talk about good genes.

I give them a nod, and we spread out to clear the area, moving like trained soldiers, silent and deadly. In a way we are professionals. We have to be, to have survived this long. Leah stays with the cars, keeping watch. Dillon and I move towards the pharmacy while Leighton and Wes go into the dollar store. There’s only one inside, an middle-aged man who been dead for awhile. I take him out swiftly with my hunting knife and survey the rest of the shop. I was wrong before, this area has been ransacked before. There are gaps on the selves where bandages and ibuprofen sat, most of it cleared away. But items like toothpaste and razors are still in their places. Whoever was here before, was here early on, back when you didn’t think about grabbing things for personal hygiene. Lucky for us, I think. I turn the corner into a another aisle and my jaw drops. Soap. Real soap. Shampoo and conditioner. Deodorant. This place is a goldmine.

I’ve started filling up my bag when Dil comes out from behind the counter. He has prescription bottles in his hands and a smile on his face. Apparently this place really is a goldmine. “It’s almost completely stocked. They’re got antibiotics and painkillers, even birth control. It’s heaven. Go grab the others.” I smile and nod at him then stick my head out the floor door and give a quick whistle. Wes and Leah com into view, jogging over to me from the cars.

“D’s in candyland. This place is stocked,” I tell them. “Pull the Focus up to the door and start filling up the trunk.” Wes heads inside while Leah moves the car, and takes over the watch. I scan my eyes around the parking lot, looking for anything suspicious. It’s all clear, and I turn to Leah. “Where’s you idiot brother?” I ask. She replies with a smirk and a “Which one?” Being the baby sister with 6 older brothers certainly gave her sass, though it didn’t diminish with the loss of 3 of them. 

“His Royal High-ass.” I reply with a grin. To say Leighton and I were friends would be an outright lie. We’re more tolerating-allies. 

“He’s clearing out the baby store. Figured we need stuff for El in there.” I nod and start walking towards the mentioned shopfront. He left the door wide open and I see a little shop bell laying just inside the threshold. At least he ain’t stupid, I think to myself, and step inside. The smell of dust and mildew almost overwhelm me but I brush it off and continue on. At least it doesn’t smell like death. I don’t think I could handle and Cad baby. Just to my left is a shelf filled with pregnancy books. Hopefully they’ll have something on home birthing, because I’m pretty sure we’re all clueless on the subject.

“Find anything interesting?” I turn and look at him, head to toe. I’ll never admit it to anyone ever, but Leighton is definitely the better looking Perkins brother. At 6’3” he towers over my lowly 5’1”. And if that isn’t enough, he’s incredibly well-built. This along with the dirty blonde hair, sun-kissed tan skin, deep blue eyes, and strong features, would make any girl wilt. Except me of course. I can’t stand him. But I will look at him when I’m bored.

“Yeah,” I respond. “Any cribs back there?” He nods. 

“You should probably pick though. You’ll know what she’d want.” There are few things in life that Leighton Perkins is afraid of. His sister-in-law is one of them. And returning home with an inadequate crib for her unborn child would probably be the death of him. He’s right of course. I do know what she’ll like. We had been talking babies long before the end of civilization. That’s what best friends in their 20s do. It’s all babies, and marriage, and ‘I’m SO glad I dumped him when I did’s. Sometimes I forget how trivial life used to be.

I nod my response, and tell him to start looking for bottle, formula, diapers and wipes. I’m hoping even he won’t be able to mess that up. I’m just about to walk back out of the door, to pull the pickup closer to the door when I hear it. It being the moans, the dragging of Cad walking, and the evidence of what’s about to be a passing herd. Leah hears it just as I do. Our eyes meet before she runs into the pharmacy and slams the door. I mirror her, spinning on my heel and shutting the door behind me, looking around to see what I can shove up against the windows. Leighton comes around a corner with a questioning look, but he ducks as a few geeks pass in front of the window. Luckily they don’t see us.

He motions towards the back of the store and we creep along silently to an open door. It’s a break room. Or a storage room, depending on which side of the room you’re looking at. I shut the door behind me and just barely get out of the way before he’s moving a couch in front of it. Who needs manners when you’re worrying about survival?

It’s dark in here. There aren’t any windows, which is a good thing really. But my flashlight is out in the car, and I’m not about to waste matches just so I can look at Leighton’s pretty face. It would probably help to stop the shaking though. That was close. Too close.

I hear movement beside me. I think it’s him, but I’m not entirely sure. Did he check this room? He had to of, right?

“It’s just me.” Apparently he’s a mind reader now. That’s just great. I’m sure that if I could see him, he’d be giving me his are-you-for-real-right-now face. Even in the dark I’m familiar with it. 

I’m hoping he can’t hear what else I’m thinking. It’s times like these, when I’m in the dark, that it all catches up to me. All the blood, and the loss, and the screams. My worries. I hide them, hold them all in, until I’m in the dark, where no one can see. But even then, I’m always alone, out of earshot. Not this time. He’s here. Lord help me.


	2. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do we like this? Do we not like this? Here's chapter two! Let me know what you think :)

Constant - Chapter Two  
This room is too small. I never used to be claustrophobic, but these days being trapped could mean death. It's too dark in here. When one of your senses is wiped out, the others go into overdrive. My skin prickles at every little sound. Though the walls are built of brick and are really quite sturdy, I can hear the herd passing by outside. I didn't get a good look at it's size. Who knows how long I'll be stuck in here. With Leighton. Ugh.  
My skin is on fire. I'm burning up. Logically I know that's it's only in the low 50s outside and has been for days, but I'm so hot. It's like a can't breathe. Panic. I'm panicking. Don't panic. What's that my mother alway used to tell me? Think happy thoughts. Think. Puppies, kittens, the summer breeze. The smell after it rains. The smell of the dead. Of dead puppies and kittens. This isn't working.  
I can feel my chest heaving with labored breaths. I'll start hyperventilating soon, if I can't calm down. But how on earth am I supposed to do that, stuck in this box, in the dark, with Cads surrounding us and no idea what's going to happen or when we'll get out, if we get out, oh God, what if I die today, what if this is it and I die in this drywall box next to Leighton Perkins and I never see Jax again or El or that freaking baby she just has to have in the middle of the ducking apocalypse and I'll never get to catch-  
"What's wrong?" I've been so wrapped up in my own head I didn't even realize that Leighton had pulled out his own flashlight and switched it on, pointing it towards the ceiling to illuminate the room. Of course he didn't forget his. He's looking at me like I've gone crazy. I probably have.  
"Nothin'" I snap back. It comes out as more of a squeak, though, and I suddenly hate myself for showing weakness around him. I'll never hear the end of it. I dart my eyes around the room, looking anywhere but at him. But I can hear him moving around.  
"No. What is it?" He's standing right next to me. What the hell? Avoiding each other's personal space is a big part of the invisible, unspoken truce we've established. When I move to step away he grabs ahold of my arm, and I look up at him in astonishment. I'm pretty sure this is a serious act of war against our rocky alliance. "Len, what is it?" His face is softer, eyes wide. Like he cares about what he's asking. For a moment I actually think he might be concerned. But I shake my head. Of course he's not.  
"I said I'm fine." I pull my arm away. "Why the hell do you care anyway?"  
The look on his face is replaced with a scowl. "I care if I get killed because you can't get your fucking shit together," he growls out. "You shouldn't even fucking be here. It's too soon."  
I take a step back and scoff. Please. Who else was going to come on this run? El's six months pregnant, Becky and Mel are looking after the kids, Chris is out hunting leaving Ry and Patrick on the wall and Tif is-Tif is off her feet for awhile. I was the only choice. Not to mention it's always been the five of us on runs. Always.  
"Fuck off Leighton. I'm the best we've got and you know it." It's true. I've killed more Cads than anyone else, and I've got the best instincts. Who knew that being naturally suspicious would being a good thing at the end of the world?  
"Not today you aren't. You're barely keeping it together. Should've stayed home. You need more-"  
"So help me, Leighton, if you say 'time' I'm going to punch you in the throat." Time? Ha. Time isn't going to fix it. Not this.  
"It's only been two days. He almost killed you." His face has returned to looking concerned. I don't like it when he looks at me like that.  
"I said I'm fine," I say with a tone that implies to drop it. And he does, thankfully.  
It's then that I realize my breathing has returned to normal. Mostly anyway. I turn away from the man I loathe to scan the room again, actually looking at it this time. Along with the couch that had been pushed against the door, the space contains a kitchenette, a small table with two chairs and a desk covered with papers to the right, and what looks to be boxes of merchandise waiting to be place on the showroom floor on the left. I decide to check the kitchenette cabinets first. There's only three sets of doors, along with a drawer. The space under the sink was left open to hold the trash can. Grabbing the flashlight out of Leighton's hand, I start with the drawer first, finding an array of plastic silverware and an assortment of condiment packets. All useful. I shove the drawer's contents into my bag and move to the shelving below.  
I can feel his eyes watching me. Like he's waiting on me to crack. But I won't. I won't. Not now. Not in front of him.

It's been hours. Four to be exact. Which really doesn't seem like too long, but do you know what four hours of complete silence, waiting to know whether or not you'll be eaten alive, is like? Trust me, it's not fun. Even better is when you have all the thoughts I have running through your mind a mile a minute. At least I'm keeping my breathing steady. Sort of. It's not like it matters now anyway. He knows. He's realized I'm losing it. Thank God he's decided not to comment on it. For now. Probably because we're currently in a life or death situation, and getting into a heated argument about the bottomless pit that is my broken mind, wouldn't exactly be a good idea. Leighton and I tend to get loud when we quarrel. And pull weapons. Hot-blooded and all that.  
I can still hear them moving outside. Jesus, how big is this herd? It's got to be getting dark out by now. Driving this far out from home had taken longer than expected. We didn't arrive until almost three in the afternoon. But we had planned for that. The others won't be expecting us back until tomorrow anyway. So they won't be alarmed until then. Hopefully the Cads won't damage the cars too much. That'd just be perfect.  
I hear Leighton shifting around on the couch. We turned the flashlight off ages ago, to conserve the battery, so I can't see him. I wonder if he's trying to catch some Z's. I don't blame him. Sleep doesn't come easy for anyone these days. You've gotta grab it while you can. Of course he took the couch though. Chivalry is dead. Here I am, back to the wall, knees pulled up, with a knife in on hand, the other resting on my thigh holster, and he's taking a nap. But like I said, I can't really blame him. I can't even remember the last time I got any real sleep. It's had to of been two days, at least. Which is presumably another really bad idea, considering there are four other people counting on me to have their backs at the moment. Well, one. But he's asleep. What he doesn't know won't hurt him.

Someone is grabbing my shoulders. My mind races back to that night. With Matt. That fucker. I knew something was off about him the minute he showed up. My shirt's ripped open, jeans undone and low on my hips, his hands are around my throat. Tiffany is whimpering somewhere nearby. I can't see. Can't breathe. He's squeezing the life out of me. And then he's gone. Accept that he's not. Not this time. He's still got ahold of me. I reach for my gun, the knife that I dropped, but I can't. He's holding onto my arms too tight. I open my mouth to scream but barely get half a sound out before he's covering it with his hand. He let go of my arm. I punch him in what I think is his jaw and start thrashing around wildly. I still can't see, it's too dark. I'm just back on my feet when I'm abruptly tackled to the ground. His hands fasten my wrists above my head and his knee rests between my thighs. This is not happening. You will not do this to me. I move restlessly, trying to get loose, to free my arms, or get a leg in between us. I'm wild. With fear and anger. This is NOT happening. And then I feel the stinging of a slap on my face. He hit me. He hit me. I realize then, that he's saying something. He has been saying something, this whole time.  
"Len. LENNIE! It's just me. You're fine. It's okay, you're okay. It's just me." Leighton. And then I burst into tears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please remember to review :) Thanks XOXO


	3. Chapter Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has a major cliffhanger. You've been warned!

Constant - Chapter Three

I don't think he knows what he's supposed to do. Hell, I don't even know how to deal with a crying person, unless they're under the age of five. He kinda just freezes up. I almost don't notice, what with the wracking sobs leaving my body, except that he's the only other person here and I've found myself a bit attached to him at the moment. He let's go of my wrists and sits up, straddling my thighs, before he let's out a loud sigh. I keep crying. I can't help it. It's like opening the freaking floodgates. I need to calm down. I need to stop. 

Maybe if I focus on the baby. I love babies. My whole life used to be centered around babies. Well, one baby. He's almost 3 now. And alive. That's what's important. It doesn't matter what happens to me, or anyone else, as long as Jax is alright. He's the only one who matters. That's one thing Leighton and I can agree on. He and Jax get on surprisingly well considering my obvious distain for the latter. Jax and I are usually so in sync when it comes to how we're feeling. We’re a matched set, even though he's not really mine. I've basically raised him from birth; what he feels, I feel, and likewise. But not on the subject of Leighton. 

Leighton. Who's currently still sitting on top of me. He's probably just making sure that I don't start flailing around like a lunatic again. Wouldn't that be great? He’s rubbing small circles into the skin above my right hip with his thumb. It feels nice. No it doesn’t. What am I thinking?

I start to clam down, trying to inhale deeply, and shove his hand away. I can't hear anything moving outside. Maybe the Cads are gone? But then why are we still here? Maybe I still can't hear correctly over my heart pounding in my ears.

"Sorry I hit you." It comes out quietly, barely even a whisper. I wouldn't of heard it if he hadn't been right here. I nod. He can't see it. Where's that damn flashlight? Maybe it's better not having it for a minute or two more. My chest is heaving with my labored breaths, my cheeks are wet, my throat dry. Yeah, better without. Not that I care what Leighton thinks of me. I couldn't care less. But he's already witnessed my vulnerability, he doesn't need to see it too. We are so going to have to talk about this when we get back. I'll be lucky if they ever let me leave again. "You shouldn't have come." Whoop, there it is.

Suddenly the fire is back. "You can get off me now." He stands and moves around the room. I sit up and suddenly the space is brighter. He’s turned the flashlight back on, and I can feel him staring me down. I refuse to look at him. I search around for my missing knife on the floor. Ah, there you are. I put it back in it’s sheath in my side. My back is stiff from being on the ground. I stretch out my spine and roll my shoulders, learning that I also have a crick in my neck. Who knew the end of the world would have me missing my Serta?Ignoring the pain, I decide that if he’s going to keep glaring at me, I’m going to do the same.

The first thing I notice are the bloody claw marks across his jaw and down his neck. Those weren’t there before. Opps, my bad. He shouldn’t of tried to wake me. I continue my examination with his clothing and hair. Both are ruffled and dirty, from sleep and time. Whose aren’t these days? Then I move to his eyes. I can barely make out the steel blue orbs in this light, but I know they’re still on me. He’s looking at me intently, curiously. Like he’s trying to figure out what’s running through my mind. Trust me bro, you don’t wanna know. 

I glance down at the marks my nails have left on his skin once more, and mumble out something resembling a “Sorry,” before I move to stand. I’m lightheaded and dizzy. When was the last time I ate something? Or maybe it’s the lingering sensitivity to my dreams. Nightmares. Definitely nightmares. He quirks an eyebrow at me. I’m not exactly the apologetic type.

I’m standing a little more steadily now, and resolved that I will not be sitting down again until I plop my ass into the seat of that car. I won’t be getting back up otherwise. I lean against the wall and put both hands behind my back. God, I’m tired. I have no idea how long I was out, but I’m guessing it was a short while. And I won’t be sleeping again anytime soon if that is the result.

I hear a “Here,” and an object is flying towards my head. I catch it one handed and look down. A granola bar. From my bag. I look up. He’s digging through it like he owns it. Guess we’re crossing all the boundaries today. He glances up at me again, then down, then up, in quick succession. “Do you wan—”

“No.” I know what he’s going to ask. Clearly I spoke too soon about the boundaries. And there is no way in hell I’m going to talk to Leighton Perkins about my problems, certainly not about my feelings. I don’t even like to think about my emotions, much less talk about them. Not going to happen. Not with him. Probably not with anyone.

“You should—”

“No, Leighton. No. I already know I’m fucked up, I don’t need you weighing in on the matter too,” I say looking down at the floor. He sighs again, loudly.

“We’re all fucked up.” Ha. No shit, Sherlock. He’s still got his hand in my bag, leaning on the edge of the couch. “We’ll catch him.”

I snap my head up to look him in the eye. “You should of killed him when you had the chance.” He furrows his brows at me and drops the bag onto the seat behind him, taking a step forward.

“Sorry, Princess, I was a little more concerned about the two bleeding girls laying in front of me.”

“I wasn’t bleeding,” I bite out. There’s that fire again. Sometimes it just pulls out of nowhere.

“Sure as hell looked like it. Had to make sure you weren’t dying.”

Since when the fuck is that his problem? “I don’t remember asking you to give a shit. I was fine. You should’ve killed him.” Since when am I the type to get angry about someone not killing someone?

He starts stalking towards me, like he does when we really start to go at each other. “Sorry if I was worried about making sure you were alright. You weren’t exactly looking like you were winning a beauty pageant. It’s not like I was trying to let him get away.” He growls out the last bit. He standing right in front of me now, looking down like I’m more than just physically beneath him.

I stand up straight so I’m in his face, as much as I can be. “I was fine. You let him get away. How do I know you didn’t do it on purpose? You were the one who brought him into camp. You’re the one who was getting all buddy-buddy with him the past few months. You’re the one who suggested he take Riane out on that run,” I cry out. He takes a step back, his eyes going wide, his face slack, before returning to a mask of anger. Then he’s in my face again, so close I can feel his breath on my cheeks.

“You think I would do that?! That I would fucking do that?! After what happened to Leah? What the hell is wrong with you? I was trying to help you, you fucking bitch! I—“

“I never asked you for help! I never asked you for anything! I should’ve just left you out on that road. All you’ve done is—”

He scoffs at me. “Yeah right. Like you would leave your precious Patrick out there to die.” I can see it in his expression that he immediately regrets what he’s said. But it’s too late. He went too far.

“Fuck you Leighton. You don’t know anything.” But he does. He was there, the whole time. A reluctant witness to my disastrous first love. Fucking high school. Can someone please explain to me how after five years of no contact, moving to another state, and a fucking apocalypse, people from my fucking high school end up at my front door. I must have really pissed someone off in another life to get this much bad karma.

I’m fuming now. My breathing is ragged and my chest is heaving. Fucking Leighton. Fucking Patrick. Fuck all of them.

“I didn’t—“ He stops. We both freeze. A gunshot?

Our eyes meet briefly before he's rushing towards the door, ready to push the couch out of the way. His hand is on the knob before I can grasp his arm. "We can't--"  
He turns and those steel eyes burrow into mine. I get it. I really do. All that remains of his family is out there. I would do the same, if it was my family. If I thought they were still alive.  
"We don't know what's out there. That shot will have drawn them back, if they'd even left at all. We can't."  
But clearly he doesn't care, as he throws the door open and strides out, machete in one hand, knife in the other. Fuck. I can't just let him go by himself. Even if I felt like killing him myself 30 seconds ago. I already have enough marks against my soul, I don't need him to be another one. I arm myself with my knife and the spare I keep in my boot, gun in it’s holster.  
It's daylight out, early morning I think. He's already out the front door, cautiously moving across the parking lot. The Cads are gone it looks like. Guess they have been for while. I step over the threshold and out into the open air. The truck is still in it's place. So is the Focus. But the door to the pharmacy is wide open. Godammit. We would've heard the screams, wouldn't we? Where are they?  
Leighton is about twenty feet ahead of me when my ears perk up. Someone is talking. Arguing. Where? I scan around. There. Inside the bar and grill. Someone’s in there. He hears it too. We agree silently to head over, and soon we’re in place on either side of the door. Weapons up, ready to fight, if we have to. I’ll open it, he’ll go in first. I check to see if he’s ready, and with a nod I swing the door open.  
We’re inside in less than a second. Leah and Wes are on the floor with a brunette girl, looming over someone. Dillon. He’s bleeding from somewhere on his upper body. He’s still moving around. That’s good. The girl is crying, saying she’s “So sorry,” over and over. She did that? I don’t see a gun anywhere near her. Where’s—  
I hear the click of a gun cocking next to my ear. Great. Just great.  
“Put ‘em down, now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Please leave me comments so that I know what I'm doing wrong/right! 
> 
> XOXO


	4. Chapter Four

The voice is male. Gruff, deep. Authoritative. I look at to Leighton, a few feet ahead of me. Whatever we do, we need to do together. Now would be the exact time not to start clashing. He nods and turns his attention back to the others, focusing on his bloodied brother. Damn. I really could've used a good fight right about now. I sigh loudly and drop my arms, tossing my knives to the side. Leighton does the same with his weapons, then reaches to the waist band of his jeans, removing the 45 tucked there, before setting it down and kicking it away. Reluctantly I unholster my own 9mm and kick it away. Leighton starts towards his family when he stranger calls out. 

"Wait." He's finally in my view now. Late 20s, dark hair, deeply tanned skin, maybe 6'3" and built. Hot. If the Perkins could pass as movie stars, this guy was a god. "Anything else?" Yes. But I'm not going to tell him that. When neither of us answer he moves towards Leighton, intent on frisking him. He keeps the gun trained on me and darts his eyes between us. Sea green. Gorgeous. Wait. No. What the hell is happening to my brain right now? 

Satisfied that Leighton is unarmed, he directs his attention to me. Fantastic. He'll find the small gun in the waistband of my pants, and the other knife in my other boot. Yeah, I may be a tad bit over armed, but there are zombies. Anything could happen. He barely makes a move before Leighton turns to stare him down. "Don't you fucking touch her." He snarls. I've only heard him do that one other time. It was with Leah, and that guy ended up dead. 

He looks at Leighton then back at me. He's actually looking at me now, as a person and not as a threat, and trains the gun on Leighton. "He do that to you?" Do what? My eyes widen. I'd forgotten what I must look like. Split lip, black eye, and handprint sized bruising around my neck, all only two days old. Leighton wasn't kidding about that beauty pageant. Good thing he can't see the rest of me. I shake my head and he lowers the gun. He actually looked concerned for a second there. Weird. 

We all move towards the others, Leighton rushing ahead while tall, dark and dreamy and I hang back a bit. Just because his good looking doesn't mean I'm not being cautious. 

As we get closer I can see that D's been hit in the shoulder. Nothing serious, but it probably still hurts like a bitch. Somebody's got some really bad aim, if that was supposed to be a kill shot. The girl. I examine her again. She's 16, maybe 17. Same dark hair, tanned skin, and green eyes, pretty. Siblings. She's still blubbering on about how sorry she is, though she's calmed down some with the mini showdown drama a minute ago. 

"You did this?" I ask her. She looks to me and nods, streaks down her face from crying. I shake my head and let out a huff. "Of course you'd go and shoot the fucking medic."

"Watch it. She's just a kid," Dreamy says to me. His face is the same stone cold it was in the beginning. All traces of prior concern have vanished. Good. 

"Then she shouldn't be carrying around a gun she can't handle," I bite out, and stare him down. In this moment I'm glad I dealt with my emotions earlier. Now I can push them down and be the ruthless bitch who'll get my people home. Without breaking my gaze I soften my voice a bit and ask, "You alright D? Clean shot?"

"Yeah," he says, voice pained. "Through and through. Needs stitched up. El is gunna freak." Freak is putting it likely. I know pregnant women have crazy hormones, but that girl is crazy. 

"Alright. I can do it in the car. Let's pack up and get going."

Dreamy jumps at that. "You're not--"

"What the hell happened anyway?" Leighton says interrupting him. 

Leah finally decides to speak up. "We were looking for you. The Cads were all gone but neither of you came out. I figured you'd stayed in that baby store, but Dil wanted to clear out all the shops again just in case. We'd barely just walked in here when we heard you two yelling at each other, but Dil was walking around the counter. She just popped out of nowhere."

"I--I t-thought you were a Walker," Girly adds. 

Leighton rolls his eyes. "You know you're supposed to aim for the head, right?"

"Back off. You should just be glad she missed."

Wait. "You could hear is yelling from all the way over here?" Somehow I feel like this is important. 

"Ha! When can't we hear you two yelling?" Wes shoots out. True. Very true.

“Don’t matter if y’all heard us, matters if they heard us. And they certainly heard that gunshot. We gotta move,” Leighton points out.

I nod my head in agreement. “Wes you go grab the truck. Leah, grab the bags. Leighton. Get him up. Anything left in the pharmacy?”

“Nah, threw it in the tr—runk of the car when we came out.” Dillon manages as his younger brother pulls him up off of the ground, none too gently. 

Dreamy stalks towards us again. “You’re not going anywhere. My sister—”

“Your sister is going to die if you don’t start heading out. It’s her fault we gotta cut and run without the things we need,” I put in, glaring with my no-nonsense bitch face. “So move your ass before I make you.” 

He scoffs. “Yeah, like you’re—”

“Becks. Let’s just go.” Girly walks up and places her hand on her brothers arm. “Please. We need to go.” It’s then that I notice how pleading her eyes are. Tired eyes. How dirty their skin and clothes actually are. Far beyond the day and half of grime the rest of us are sporting. They’ve been on the road awhile. I try not to pity them. She did shoot Dil. He gives her a hard look and opens his mouth to respond, but Wes comes running back through the door, eyes panicked.

“They’re coming. We need to go. NOW.” If he could see them from the parking lot, then they’re too close. Dreamy, Becks, and this girl would never make it on foot. Not with a herd that size. 

Leighton is already helping Dillion out the door. Leah is running around picking up anything useful as fast as she can, and Wes darts out the door to start the Focus. But I stand there, looking at the small family in front of me, looking at each other. It’s the same look I would give my brother, if he were here. If he were alive. It’s the one Leighton, and Leah, and Wes, and Dillon would give each other. The one full of hopelessness, and fear, and togetherness. In that moment they are the same as us all. And I make a split second decision that could cost us our lives. “Get in the truck. We gotta go.”

Then both turn to look as me, so fast you’d think they’d get whiplash. But I keep my eyes on his. He’s trying to figure me out. Trying to see if I’m for real. If he can trust me, with his life and his sister’s. The other’s are outside, yelling for me to hurry up. We have to go. I can hear the crunch of smashing skulls and the car doors slam. They’re here. But I keep staring into eyes staring at me. And he nods.


	5. Chapter Five

Any second now. Any second and they're going to pull the cars over and lay into me. We're a far enough distance away from that herd now. It's safe enough to stop moving for a minute or two. There's time for an argument. So, I'm expecting it. Any second now. 

I've ridden in the back of this truck plenty of times in the past year, but I don't think I'll ever get used to the icy gusts of winds slapping my face. I should be in the cab with Wes but there wasn't time for that. There was barely time to reach the truck at all. It was another close call in the endless stream of close calls. I lost a knife when it got stuck in the skull of a Cad that was trying to climb into the truck bed with us. I think Girly dropped her bag. Yeah, it was close. 

He looking at me again. I’m avoiding his eyes but i can feel it. He’s still trying to figure me out. Good luck with that one. I would do the same if the roles were reversed. Anyone who helps another these days has motivation. A reason. Not me. I can't for the life of me figure out why I said those words to a stranger. Two strangers. One of whom shot D. "Get in the truck. We gotta go." What was I thinking? That's exactly what Leighton will ask once he pulls over the car. I'm sure there will be a few cuss words in there, but the thesis will be the same. What were you thinking? The answer? I have no idea. 

Maybe I could plead insanity. I did just have what amounts to a mental breakdown, and a highly traumatic experience, all within the past few days. And I had a witnesses. Insanity could work. Or duress? I could say they threatened me. Nah. No one would buy that. But insanity? It's plausible. It's a miracle more of us haven't lost our minds before now. Or maybe we have. Maybe we're all nuts. I would believe that. 

"What's your name?" I'm pulled from my thoughts. It's Girly. She's looking only a tad bit relieved and much more apprehensive. She's learned it then too. Everybody wants something. 

"Len. Lennie. Goddess Divine. Take your pick," I suss out. 

He scoffs, my eyes fly to his, but he's elbowed in the rib cage, drawing his attention back to the girl at his side. "I'm Olivia. This is my brother, Beckett." I nod. "Tha--thank you. For saving us."

I look between them now. His face is blank, hers full of hope. I nod again. "'M not in the habit of leaving people to die. Usually." That's true. For the most part. Maybe that's it. Maybe I just didn't want any more black marks against my soul. That's reasonable right?

Her face falls, but she tries to play it off. "Well--thank you anyway."

My eyes find his face again. Beckett's. Still blank but with stormy eyes. Stormy sea green. It's glorious. Maybe that's it. Maybe I saved them because I find him attractive. Oh yeah, they'd love that. 

“Where are we going?” she asks me, her face a mix or curiosity and worry. I open my mouth to answer her but then the truck suddenly comes to a stop. I have to hold onto the side of the truck to stop from colliding with the back window. Why’d we stop? Oh. This is it. I hear a car door open and slam shut, but Wes hasn’t moved except to roll down his window. Leighton. Yeah, this is the part where I get chewed out for saving lives. Or risking mine, ours. Or both. Probably both. Except that I don’t. I hear the heavy stepping of boots coming towards me and then he’s in my view. There’s a streak of blood on his cheek, but that could be anyones. His eyes are black, no blue remains, and his jaw is tense. He’s furious. Irate. In all the years I’ve known him, Leighton has never been this pissed before. It’s terrifying. But whatever it is he wants to say, to scream at me, he holds it in. For now. “Leah needs help with D.” That’s all he says. That’s it. It must be worse than I thought. That blood must be Dillon’s. 

I stand up and swing a leg over the side of the truck bed, jumping to the ground. I turn towards the driver’s window and give Wes an encouraging look. He looks at me with doubt and concern. Leighton speaks to him over my head. “We gotta get back. Try to keep up,” and he walks away. The 13inch height difference makes it difficult for me to match his strides, and he’s walking fast. I can feel his anger radiating off his body. God, he’s livid. 

We reach the car and he opens the driver door, sliding in in one quick movement. I open the back door and peek in. Dil is sitting up facing me with Leah behind him with towels pressed to the wounds. Blood is everywhere. “I can’t get the bleeding to stop.” She’s nearly hysterical and I don’t blame her. Dillon’s eyes are hooded and he is far to pale for comfort. This is not good. “I have suture kits and bandages but I—I can’t—”

“I got it, alright. We’ve got it.” I so don’t got it. Dillon is the medic. And he’s nearly unconscious. I only know a handful more about all this than she does. We need Mel and Becky. They can fix it. The can fix him. “Drive fast.”

—————

If speed limits still mattered we’d have been pulled over time and time again. What was a three and a half hour drive has become two. I will say a lot of things about him, but damn. That boy can drive. I’m surprised Wes was able to keep up. I’m even more surprised that Beckett and Olivia didn’t fly out the back and hit the pavement. Or maybe they did. I’ve been a bit preoccupied. Blood covers my hands and forearms. There’s a fair amount on my clothing too, and Leah looks the same. Dillion is laying between us, his chest rising with shallow breaths, and he’s pale in a way that could never be mistaken for natural. He passed out some time ago but we were able to get the bleeding to stop. Thank god. 

We’re pulling up to the gate. Leighton barely leaves Ry and Chris time to open it all the way before he zooms through, straight up to the house instead of to the barn like we normally would. Mel and Becky are likely to be up there, one of them at least. Mel is a doctor, an equine veterinarian technically, but she’s been able to translate her knowledge to humans so far. Becky, her mom, was an ER nurse for thirty years. She definitely knows her stuff. Becky and El are walking out the door as we pull into the drive. They must know something is wrong. Fuck. I do not need El freaking out right now. I’d rather have ben able to tell her after they’d started working on him.

Before the car is even in park, I’m flinging my door open, ready to help drag the limp body from the back seat and into the house. Leighton is at my side in an instant and the two of us somehow manage to remove Dil form the car without any further injury. Leighton bares the bulk of his weight but I’m still helping to support him. Jesus. You’d think with everything going on around us, we’d be losing more weight. This guy is still 220, easy. I can hear El flipping out behind us, and Leah trying to calm her down. Becky is asking questions I can’t find the answers to. I know what happened, but I can’t seem to form words around those thoughts. Luckily Leighton can. He’s explaining, and I feel Wes come up and take the load off my shoulders. Everyone is here now, having run up from the barn or the gate. Why the hell did they leave the gate unattended? 

Everyone is talking at once. Screaming over each other. The Perkins brothers have disappeared into the house with Mel and Becky, but it doesn’t dispel any of the chatter. El is by far the loudest, calling for a God she no longer believes in, begging for the life of her husband. Leah is still trying to calm her, while still trying to calm herself. Ryan and Chris are trying to wrangle the kids and ask questions about what happened. It’s Patrick who asks the important question. The question I hear over all of the others. Ever-mindful Patrick. “Who are they?”


	6. Chapter Six

I'm standing on the back porch watching the sun fade away. It's seems so peaceful, like nothing has changed. Everything has changed. Instead of passing cars and tractors and the him of electricity, I hear the groans and moans of Cadavers. Instead of wood and wire fences surrounds our farm, I see the grotesque wall of cars and twisted metal we built for security, not style. Instead of the cool night breeze, I feel a harsh wind against my skin, chilling me to the bone. Still, my thoughts manage to wander, back to the earlier events of today. 

—————

The words were like a cold bucket of water thrown against their skin. Collectively, my friends all turned to look at the two strangers, drinking them in, before focusing on me. Why must I always be the one in question? I gulp, hoping no one noticed and begin. "Beckett and Olivia. We found then out on the run." 

It's simple, to the point and not a lie. It should suffice for now. Until Leah speaks up. "She's the one who shot D." Then all hell breaks loose. 

Eyes and angry words flash towards the pair of siblings, and then towards me. I tune it out. I'm too tired for all of this. Too worn out. I just want to sleep but I know I won't. My head is pounding. I want to walk away and hide from all the leers and angry words but I feel a small pulling at my hand.

It's Jax looking up at me with wide eyes. "Nennie hurt?" 

I smile at his use of my nickname, the one he gave me so long ago. "No baby, I'm fine. Why don't you and Ana go grab some food for our new friends. I'm sure they're hungry." I don't care if they're starving or if they just ate a kings feast. I don't like Ana, and especially Jax, witnessing arguments like this. There's enough bad in the world as it is, they should be saved from at least this. 

Chris watches his daughter, holding into the hand of the little boy, walk away before stepping towards me. Confusion fills his eyes and I'm expecting venom to lace his words, but I'm mistaken. "Len? What's going on? Why are they here?" He's concerned. Of course he is. Why would did I think it would be different? I should know better. This is Chris. I've known him longer than anyone else at this point. Ten years of friendship with a constant undercurrent of something more has made us close. I know him sometimes better than I know myself, and likewise. Why would I think he would be anything other than worried? 

I can feel seven sets of eyes on me but I stay focused on one. Maybe if I show my emotions through my own eyes he'll get it. He'll understand. Even if I don't. "I couldn't just leave them to die." 

And he understands.

—————

Night has fallen. It’s even colder out now than before. I wasn’t built for these temperatures. I am definitely not a cold-weather animal. Give me the burning sun and sweaty nights any day. I don’t like the cold. But winter is on it’s way and won’t be delayed. This one is going to be a killer. Last year, well within it’s rights, was cold. But not as cold as it could of been. It was actually fairly mild. That’s how I know this year will be terrible. Kentucky winters with central heating were bad enough. Kentucky winters without central heating might just be the end of us. But at least we’re not in Minnesota.

I’m not sure if we’ve made enough preparations. That’s why we went on that run yesterday, why we went so far from home. We needed things from every shop in that strip mall, but now I don’t know if the others will be willing to risk it again. At least they cleaned out the pharmacy. But the baby store, and that department store. We’ll have to go back. We have to. El is going to need those bottles and diapers, not to mention the crib and any formula or food. We’ll all need the warm clothing from the department store, along with any other little treasures. Shoes, boots. Jax and Ana are growing out of theirs. I could do with a second pair. All of us could. We’ll have to go back.

—————

“Okay,” he says. “If you’re sure.” And I nod. He turns to the odd pair then, with a small smile. “I’m Chris. Hungry?”

Beckett is saved from answering by the slamming of the side door. Leighton. He’s covered in blood. HIs brother’s blood. His blood. He looks at me, eyes wide and full of fury, but I can’t look away. He doesn’t say anything, just burns me with his glare, nostrils flaring. Then he walks away.

He’s too mad to even yell? To scream at me? This is not good.

—————

The others are all inside now. We all ate dinner up at the main house for once. Well, they did. I couldn’t find the will to eat. El is practicing her mothering on Dil, who’s awake. We’ll see how long that lasts. Beckett and Olivia, after showering and eating, have gone to bed, using my room. They didn’t want to be separated tonight. I can understand that. They must be exhausted. And I’m not sleeping anytime soon, might as well use mine. After tending to D, Becky helped Leah with dinner and Mel went to entertain the kids. Ry and Chris went back to their spots on watch, and Patrick is sorting through the bag we managed to return with. I haven’t seen Leighton since he stormed off earlier. I’m just waiting for the bomb to drop. Anytime now. 

I just continue to stand here in the chill. 

—————

It’s late now, nearly midnight. I’m a popsicle. Even with three layers of shirts, my lucky leather jacket, leggings under jeans and my favorite pair of boots, I’m as close to frozen as I’ll get without traveling to Arendalle. I decide to go in search of the only friend I'm positive I still possess. While the others accepted the newcomers rather reluctantly, Chris was the only one to not blink twice. Because he understood. Or maybe it was just out of loyalty. Either way, he's the one person I know who won't turn me away right now. And I don't want to be alone. Not tonight. 

He's right where I expected him to be; tucking Ana into bed. At five, she insists on staying up later than "the baby" and often doesn't relinquish consciousness until Chris is available to put her in bed after his watch. She's very particular when it comes to her remaining parent. She's only just getting over her almost unhealthy attachment to her father. But I guess that's what happens when your "doting" mother tries to drown you in the bathtub. Just for the record, let's point out that I warned Chris about Jeni in the beginning, and he ignored me. After The Incident, he decided that a fresh start would be the best thing for Ana, and the two of them made the 300 mile move, renting a small house less than 5 minutes away from the farm. 

But that was more than a year ago, and the pair have since moved into my small apartment down by the barn. I tried giving them the bigger of the two bedrooms, but Chris insisted that I keep what was mine. It's not like he doesn't come crawl into my bed once Ana is asleep anyway. A bed that is always empty, I might add. I’m a night owl, usually taking the night shifts on the wall, but even if I wasn’t that would still never happen. Chris and I have a very thick line when it comes to physicality. Sure, he’s the guy I go to if I need to talk, or scream, or fight, or cry, or flirt, or a confidence boost. But we’ll never go there. Mostly because A, I don’t like being touched, as in ever, B, sex is messy and complicated and we would never be able to hold onto our already awesome friendship if we went there, and C, I know WAY too many of the people he’s slept with. Well, knew. The majority of them are probably dead now. Either way, we’ve never done more than a quick hug and a rare kiss on the cheek, and I’m happy with it that way. He’s my best friend and it’s going to stay that way.

I stand in the doorway to Ana’s room as he finishes tucking the blankets in around her. She looks so young and peaceful. You’d almost think it was a normal day, and this was a normal life. He looks at me in question and I ask, “Whiskey, vodka, or rum?” He cocks an eyebrow and gives me a smirk. Yeah, I was thinking whiskey too. I walk back out into the kitchen/living room and open a cabinet, pulling out a bottle of Jack and two glasses. On second thought, who needs glasses? I don’t feel like washing them out later. Plopping down onto my side of the couch, I unscrew the lid and take a long sip. Ach. The first is always the worst. Passing him the bottle I look directly into his eyes and ask, “What do you think?” He’ll know what I mean.

After taking his own gulp, much larger than my own, he turns back to me, eyes focusing on mine. “What do you think?” He passes the bottle back.

Crap. What do I think? I have no idea. I don’t know anything these days. “I don’t know. I don’t think they’re bad people.” But they could be. Lord knows there are a considerable amount of bad people in the world today. I take another sip and hand it back to him.

“She shot Dillion.” He doesn’t sound accusatory, just factual. This is exactly why I can talk to Chris. He doesn’t judge. At least not while I’m trying to figure things out for myself.

“That was an accident,” I say. And it was. Even Leah said so. He takes a smaller sip and then the Jack is back in my grasp.

He nods. “True. But that doesn’t explain why you brought them back here.”

He’s right, it doesn’t. I take a drink, and then another. Why did I bring them here? I knew it would piss off Leighton, but if that was my goal, there are easier ways of achieving that without risking the group. I have no idea if they’ll be of any use, or if either of them have any skills. I don’t even know their last name. Maybe I will go with that insanity plea. My head is starting to get fuzzy. I always was a lightweight. At least somethings stay the same. “Yeah, guess it doesn’t.” He looking at me with those understanding eyes. It’s driving me crazy. “What do you want me to say?” Those eyes. I take in all of him. His dirty blonde curls, shorter than when we first met, but longer than Jeni made him keep them. His full lips, plenty of girls have felt against their own. His hands, so strong, but so gentle and caring. And those eyes. Those damn hazel eyes that can read the writings on my soul.

My mother said we were soul mates once, Chris and I. Because we always came back to each other, no matter how often we were pushed apart. I told her she needed to rework her definition of “soul mates.” Sure, we’ve been friends for so long that the thought of not being friends physically hurts, and we basically know what the other one is thinking with just a look. And we talk about absolutely everything. But soul mates? We’d kill each other five seconds into that relationship. Just because we get along famously most of the time doesn’t mean we get along all of the time. Our arguments are like fighting through a war. And there’s usually just about that much damage as well. The only other person I’ve ever fought with like that is Leighton, and hell to the no, we are certainly not soul mates. Sorry mom, guess you’ll have to try again.

He still hasn’t said anything. Still just looking at me with those eyes and waiting for me to respond. We might as well sit here until the sun rises. I don’t know why, just that I had to. Isn’t that enough? Of course it’s not. Because I said so is not going to fly this time. But my mind is blank. Why, why why? I’ve got nothing. So I keep on drinking, to flow my thinking.


	7. Chapter Seven

I'm vaguely aware that someone is trying to wake me up, but I know that if I open my eyes I will be assaulted with the cruelty that is daylight, and the headache already present will intensify. I really need to stop drinking so much.

“Nennie. Nennie! Gotta feed da pigs!” Jax. Oh Jax. Please stop. Let me sleep. “Nennie!”

I groan. “Okay, okay. I’m getting up.” I don’t want to get up. Or move. Even breathing seems like too much work. I hate pigs. I sigh, loudly and continue, “Go help Becky with breakfast.” Anything to stop the noise. I love that boy. More than anything, I really do. But if he keeps talking I might die.

He leaves without another word, but of course he slams the door behind him. That’s it. I’ve decided. I am dying. Right here, right now, this is it. My bed is moving. Why is my bed moving? I feel like this may be a bad sign. Clearly I’m worse off than I thought. But then my bed makes a noise. Since when does my bed talk? Oh that’s right. I’m laying on top of a person, not my comfy mattress. Wait. I’m clothed, right? Yes. Good. That would be awkward. Especially since a three-year old was just in here. 

I flash back to the last time I woke up with a hangover, next to a warm body. Nope. Nope. I am not thinking about that. Him. I will not give him the satisfaction, not even if this is just all in my head. My bed moves again. I tilt my face upwards and crack open an eyelid. Oh. It’s just Chris. That’s right. We were talking last night. And by talking I mean consuming a bottle of Jack Daniels. That explains things. And why my mouth is disgusting. I need to brush my teeth. And shower. And find a dark hole to hide out in until this pounding inside my head stops. Today is not going to go well.

I roll off of Chris and the couch, directly onto the cold tile floor. Walking sounds absurd. Actually, being upright sounds absurd. I can take a shower while sitting down, right? Either way, I’m going to find out. I crawl the ten or so feet over to the bathroom door and push myself inside, shutting the door. Darkness. Yes. I can handle this. After starting the water I set about undressing, which is about as bracing as it sounds. The stiffness of drunkenly sleeping on top of someone else, paired with my injuries from three, has it really only been three days?, days ago, has made my body fairly feeble. I’m starting to think that dying on that conch might have been the way to go.

Somehow, and that’s a big somehow, I manage to clean myself up enough so that I can at least walk in a straight line, somewhat gracefully. Now my issue is new clothing. I didn’t bring any in here with me, and if I remember correctly, my refugees are in my bedroom. So I can either put on my old clothes, not going to happen, or walk into my occupied room in nothing but a towel. Embarrassment it is then. Maybe they’re not even in there anymore. There’s no saying how long I slept. Hey. I slept. And I didn’t wake up thrashing from nightmares. That’s progress.

I open the bathroom door and take a peek. No one, except for Chris who’s still passed out on the couch. I check the towel I’ve wrapped around myself, making sure it won’t fall, and take a step outside. Creeping towards my bedroom door, I plan out my moves. I know exactly what I’m grabbing and where they are. I’ll be in and out without them even noti—

They locked the door. Of course they locked the door. Why wouldn’t they? I mean, we could be murderous psychos, intent on offing them as soon as they let their guard down. Yeah, that’s exactly why I brought you back here in the first place. Fan-freaking-tastic. Well. I need something to wear. And all of my clothes are in there. So I knock.

Dreamy, Beckett, opens the door almost immediately, as if he was standing there waiting for someone to burst in and attack. Actually, that’s probably exactly what he was doing. It’s what I would do. When he sees my lack of weaponry, he takes in the sight of me fully, eyes widening and eyebrow rising a bit in question. Chill out dude, I’m not here to jump you. “I need clothes.”

He looks at me like I’ve said the dumbest thing he’s ever heard. “And you want me to—?”

I roll my eyes, so over this conversation already. I’ve got things to do, people to hide out from. “Move. You’re in my room. I need clothes.”

His mouth falls into an O and he steps aside to allow me into the room. I look around, noticing that the girl is still asleep on my bed and their bags are sitting right next to the door, weapons on top. Ready to run. I head towards my dresser, picking out a bra and panties, then a tank top from the next drawer and a pair of jeans from the bottommost drawer. Lifting a pair of socks from the next row of drawers, I move towards my closet, choosing a maroon sweater and a light grey zip-up. He’s watched me through this whole ordeal, probably making sure I won’t pull a weapon from my underwear drawer and try to stab him. To be fair, I do have a knife in my underwear drawer, but I’m guessing he knows that. The first thing I’d do when entering a new room, would be to look for items that could be used for or against me. I’m guessing he’s picked up that trick too.

"What?" I barked out harshly. I turned to see him scanning me from head to toe. Normally I wouldn't care, boys will be boys and all that, but considering that I'm covered in nothing but a towel, he was making me fairly uncomfortable. His eyes stopped just below where the towel stopped and I blushed. Could you be any less obvious?

"Your boyfriend do that?" He sounded angry. Do what? Looking down at myself I realized what he was talking about. In the dim lighting of the bathroom I couldn't see the damage Matt had inflicted. Sure I felt it, but seeing and feeling are two very different things.

There are bruises, purple and splotchy all over my inner thighs, and a long cut above my left knee. I know how this looks, and what he must think. Embarrassment floods my cheeks as I shake my head. "It's not like that. I was--" I was what, attacked? I guess that would describe it. But I was the one who was doing the attacking, really. I just did a bad job of it. Hold on a minute. "Boyfriend?"

He let's out a small laugh. "Yeah. Prince Charming," he says, as if that's supposed to make sense to me. Who is he--? Oh. 

"Leighton. He is SO not my boyfriend." As if. 

He raises an eyebrow. "Who was it then?" Ugh. Can we not do this please? 

I sigh. "It was nobody. I'm fine." I really don't want to talk about this right now. Or ever. Why can't people just let it go?

His mouth falls into a frown and his brows furrow. He takes a step towards me and I automatically take one backwards, away from him. I am naked after all. "If there's something I need to know about, to protect my sister, you are going to tell me." His voice is demanding and a bit menacing. 

My eyes widen. And I open my mouth to speak, but I have no words prepared. He's standing close to me, eyes burrowing into my own waiting for an answer, ready to chastise me if I omit anything important. It makes me nervous. But he wouldn't hurt me, would he? He could. I know nothing about this man or his tendencies. I could have rescued a psychopath for all I know. "I--It's--" His stare continues to boar into mine. "He's gone. It's over," I manage. He may be gone, but it's definitely not over. 

He keeps staring for a moment more, trying to gage if I'm lying. Satisfied, he nods and turns away, marking my cue to leave. Clutching onto my clothing, I skittle back to the bathroom and shut the door behind me. Leaning against it, I take a deep breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding. Finally the weight of what I've done hits me. I brought strangers to my home. Our home. The one I share with Jax and Chris, and the other people who have become like family to me. I don't know anything about these people. Sure, he could've been classmates with Dil, and she's only a year or two younger than Leah. But that doesn't mean anything in this new world. What if they're dangerous? What if they try to steal what we have, or are part of another group who will wipe us out? I know nothing about these people. What have I done?

\-------------

Once I'm fully outfitted in my new duds, I head back out towards the living room with the intent of waking Chris for his own hangover routine. But he's already up and gone. Sometimes I hate his level of alcohol tolerance. Lucky son of a bitch. Sitting down in the couch I pull on my boots and lace them up. I'll have to get a new knife to replace the one I lost. And hopefully Leah picked up my others from the bar and grill. 

Ready to face the outdoors, I open my front door and quickly throw it shut again. So. Much. Sunlight. I need sunglasses. Now where did I put those? After finding a pair I try for Outside: Take 2 and open the door again. Much better. I walk down towards the barn, spotting Jax and El feeding the pigs. Guess he got tired of waiting for me. I change directions and head over. No doubt El is going to want to talk to me about yesterday. Or yell, as she's prone to do these days. 

I reach the edge of the pen and give what I hope to be a smile, and a "Hey." She doesn't seemed too mad. But that could change. 

"Nennie, you took for-EV-er!” Jax bursts out. He’s loud. Oh so loud. 

But I grin and laugh. "Yeah bud, that's what happens when you get old." He giggles and starts chasing one of the piglets. I turn towards El, waiting. 

"You alright?" she asks. Maybe this'll go better than I thought. 

I nod at her. "Yeah, I'm fine." I feel as though that's all I say these days. "How's D?"

It's her turn to give a small smile. "Mel says he'll be fine with a couple'a days rest. She says it would've been much worse if you hadn't gotten back here so quickly." Quickly? It was a two hour drive that might as well have lasted forever. 

I nod and smile again, showing my elation. "That's good. Really good. Leighton was the one drive though. You should thank him." As much as I hate to admit it, he pulled through for us yesterday. 

"He's not here."

My mouth falls open, dropping the smile and eyes narrowing. "Where is he?"

She just shrugs. "I dunno. He left early this morning, took the truck. Said he'd be back later." What. The. Actual. Fuck. 

"He left by himself?!" I growl out, My voice growing with disbelief. The sounds hurts my own ears and increases the pounding in my head. 

El just shrugs again and cocks an eyebrow. "Yeah. He did. You're not the only one who's allowed to make stupid, dangerous decisions without consulting anyone else." And there we have it folks. If there's one thing Eloise Cleary-Perkins is good at, it's throwing shade. 

"Just because I'm a bad example doesn't mean others should copy me. When is he going to be back?" I bite out. The freaking idiot. If there's one thing I think we've learned in the past, it's not to go anywhere alone. 

She sighs. "I don't know. He just came in to check on Dillon and then left. But he'll be fine. It's just Leighton after all." Yeah. Leighton. The no-good, dumbass, jerk faced asshole who--

"Hey sunshine." Ry. He whispers it in my ear but it might as well of been shouted through a megaphone. 

"Dude," I whine out. Can no one see the state I'm in?

"Your newbies up yet? Figured we'd all have a nice chat when Lee gets back," he says. Ryan's a nice guy. Always happy. And loyal. Kind of like a puppy dog. But I doubt he'd be so happy if the Perkins brothers ever found out he's been sneaking into Leah's room after everyone's in bed. I'm fact, I'm fairly certain he’d be the exact opposite of happy and sporting a few new injuries. 

I sigh loudly. Despite the fact that I'm pissed about him leaving on his own without backup and a timeframe, I'm dreading Leighton's return. The only reason he'd have left like that is if he's trying to cool down and clear his mind. Or he's coming up with a really good argument that'll make me regret ever being born. Or both. Either option is feasible. And I am seriously not in a mood to be yelled at today. “I don’t know. Sort of. I figure they’ll come out when they’re ready.”

He nods understanding and gives me a grin. “Damn Len. You look like shit.”

“Yeah I know, asshole,” I laugh and his smile grows. “You’re not exactly looking so hot yourself.”

Although his smile remains, it does decrease in size and his eyes grow sad. “Yeah. Leah was up all night, worried about D. And—” he stops, and I raise my brows at him. “Tif, Matt. She’s afraid he’ll come back. Tif still hasn’t said anything.”

My mood instantly depresses. But if any of us have an excuse to check out for a few days, it’s Tiffany. What Matt did to me was child’s play compared to her and Riane. I don’t doubt for a second that he’ll come back. Leighton should hav—

“Len, maybe you should go check in on her,” El suggests, cutting off my thoughts. Yeah, maybe I should. 

“She still up at the house?” I ask and El nods her conformation. “I’ll go now,” I say, and I start walking away up the hill towards the main house. “Make sure he washes his hands!” I throw back, motioning to Jax, and she waves her goodbye.

The main house is about 500 yards away from the barn and my apartment, up a slight hill. I used to walk this everyday, multiple times, when I was on my way to and from work. Nannying for Jax was the best decision I’ve ever made, and the best job I ever could have hoped for, though sometimes it seems like another life. Someone else’s life. Like I’m watching a movie about an alternate universe. Man, I miss movies. 

When I reach the front door I stop for a moment to contemplate what I’m going to say. What do you say to someone who’s been assaulted like that? I have no experience in this, no idea what to say, what not to say. I feel like I should, but I don’t. It’s not like I can magically make it all better. I know I can’t. But what am I supposed to say? Sorry Tif, I didn’t realize he was a complete psychopath until it was too late, and even then I couldn’t do anything. Or maybe Sorry he raped and killed your best friend, and then tried to do the same to you, and then me. Or better yet, Sorry I didn’t run fast enough. Yeah. No. Maybe I just won’t say anything.

I open the door and walk inside. It's quiet. The kitchen and living/family room are empty. That's strange, even with all that's been going on lately. But then I hear a faint voice coming from the guest bedroom. They must still have her in that room. I walk over to the cracked doorway, looking inside. Becky's back is to me and she's reading aloud from a book. Nicholas Sparks. Not sure a tearjerker is a good idea, but whatever, it's not my life. I knock softly on the doorframe and she turns in her seat, giving me a big smile. Becky really is one of the most kindhearted, genuinely good people I've known in my entire life. She's definitely the mothering type and has adopted each member of our unconventional crew. She always knows exactly what I need, even if I don't. I don't know what we'd do without her here.  
She pats the bed beside her and pulls me close when I sit down. "How're you feeling honey?"  
I look at her concerned face and I know that couldn't lie to her even if I tried. "I don't know." Which is the truth. I haven't wanted to sort out my feelings, so I didn't. Now I'm all muddled. I shake my head and look away, down to Tiffany's still form. God it's bad. She looks worse off than the last time I checked in on her. I'm surprised she's still alive. Her face is black and blue, swollen beyond recognition, with various cuts here and there. Her nose is broken. Maybe even her jaw too. She has the same bruising around her neck that I have. Her arms in the same state, with rope burns around her wrists. The rest of her body is covered by blankets and I think it's better that way. I don't want to think about what he did to the rest of her body. Tears are starting to form in my eyes. Fuck. Why didn't I run faster? Why couldn't I have done something? I should have known.  
"It isn't your fault." Her words break me out of my thoughts. "You couldn't have known." It's like she's reading my mind. Just like Leighton did. Maybe I'm more transparent than I think. "There was nothing you could have done. For Tiffany or Riane. That-boy is a sick, sick human being and he will be judged for what he's done. But that's why there are people like you in the world. I have no doubt that you will find him, and stop him from hurting anyone else. But in order to do that, you need to heal. Dwelling in the past will only hinder you, and you need to be strong to survive this fight. And I KNOW that you will survive this. We all will. I KNOW how strong you are. I've seen it, time and time again. But you need to put the past away. All of it. You need to mend, not just your body, but your mind and your soul. Trust your gut. Trust our family. Trust yourself. And let it all go."

For a moment I consider what she's said. Let it all go. But how much is all of it? How far back am I supposed to reach? "What if I can't?"  
"You can. You will. I know you. There is no one more determined and tough as you. You can do anything you want. But never be afraid to admit that you need help. That you need someone. None of us can make it alone." I wonder for a second if now she's talking about something else entirely. It wouldn't be the first time her words have had multiple meanings. She's good like that. I guess I'm quiet for a minute because she stands up and says, "Why don't you sit with her for awhile. I need to check on Dillon anyway," and she leaves the room.  
I look back down at Tiffany and feel my heart ache again. She looks so fragile, nothing like the fighter I've come to know. Humans are the cruelest of the animal kingdom. But we're also the most resilient. The most capable. Becky is right. I will find Matt and I will stop him. Even if it's the last thing I do. I just need to heal.


	8. Chapter Eight

Checking in on Tif has taken a lot out of me, mostly due to the emotional deliberation from my conversation with Becky. And my raging hangover. I probably should’ve taken some aspirin earlier. But there’s no sense in wasting meds on something I did to myself. I’ll just have to live with it. Walking out of the bedroom Tif’s in, I head towards the kitchen to grab whatever leftovers there are from breakfast. Sitting in pans on the stove are some sausage patties and a type of potato mixture, along with some scrambled eggs. I scoop some of each onto a plate and grab a fork, taking a bite. It’s room temperature now, seeing as how late in the morning it is, and I spin around to go sit at the counter. I stagger back almost as soon as I do, having almost run right into Patrick. Patrick. In the seven months since the Home group has been here, I’ve done pretty well at avoiding him. Well, as much as I can living in a world with only 14 other people in it. 15 now, I suppose. I’ve gotten pretty efficient at dodging any one-on-one time as well as making sure we have differing watch schedules. It’s not that I hate him or anything. Not really. I just don’t want to be anywhere near him. Because being near him makes me think about when I really didn’t hate him. About when he was my best friend. When he was my everything. And I really don’t want to think about that.

Saying that things ended badly between Patrick and I would be a lie. Because there wasn’t really anything to end. He was my friend, he made me think that he loved me, and then he took it all back. But he was never my boyfriend. Never anything more than a friend. Except that we slept together. So there is that. I lost my virignity to my friend who told me he loved me, and then afterwards he took it all back and abandoned me. I must be really bad in bed.

So bypassing any time with Patrick that isn’t necessary is my go to defense. And like I said, I’m good at it. That being said, turning around and finding him standing almost directly behind me is a bit startling to say the least. It’s not like I’m the only one who’s been avoiding a tete-a-tete. Until now, seeing as he apparently wants to have a conversation with me. Either that or he’s suddenly taken on the role of a creeper. But hey, Matt’s gone. The spot is open.

But just because Patrick has decided to end our disparities doesn’t mean I want anything to do with him. I move to step around him and plan on bolting out the door, food or no food. However, he moves back into my space and blocks my path. Oh my God, leave me alone. But it is not to be.

“Are you alright?”

My head snaps up and I give him my best death glare. You’re asking me if I’m alright?!? Are you FUCKING kidding me?!? But I say nothing. I just glare. 

He doesn’t move, but his face shows his worry. Yeah, you should be scared. What are you thinking?! He shifts around a bit, nervously. “I’m just—I want to—I—”

I stop him there, furious. “For the millionth time, I’m fine. Don’t ask me again, don’t speak to me again.” How dare he? I’m fully intent on getting away from him now, there’s no way I can remain in his vicinity without punching him. Then again, that could help me a bit with some stress relief. Turning to get away from him, I manage to take one step before I feel his hand on my wrist. WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!? 

But as I round to start the verbal shitstorm readily forming, El walks through the door. I turn back to face her, thankful she’s stopped me from committing murder. She’s out of breath and her cheeks are a bit red. “Leighton’s back.” Her eyes are on mine, probably trying to gauge my level of panic. She knows what’s about to happen. He’s been gone for most of the day, either cooling off or fuming. Knowing Leighton, he’s seething.

It would seem if Patrick knows the atmosphere has changed as well. He drops his hand, releasing his grip and backs away. Thank God for small favors. I sigh. Loudly and unnecessarily. Nothing is going to prepare me for this. Maybe if I run, now, and never come back? No. I couldn’t leave Jax. Maybe if I fake a major injury? Nah, he’d still yell at me if I was puking blood and missing both legs. This is going to be bad. Very, very bad.


	9. Chapter Nine

LEIGHTON POV

She is an idiot. It’s that simple. How can she be so fucking stupid all the time? Maybe not all the time. But a good portion of it. Lennie is easily one of the dumbest bitches I’ve ever met. Emphasis on the bitch. It’s one thing to threaten her own safety, but this time she’s pulled the rest of us into it as well. And for what, some little girl and her asshole brother? Who we don’t even know. She’s got a death wish. She has to. Hell, I’ll kill her myself at this point. We’d probably be better off. 

That’s a lie. We need Lennie. And by we I don’t mean me. I don’t need her. The hell if I ever need Lennie Gibson. That’ll be the day. Not. No I don’t need her, the group does. As much as I hate to admit. If they didn’t, she’d be gone. Especially after this. How could she be so fucking stupid?!

Actually I’m surprised she hasn’t lost it before now, with all the shit that’s happened. I was sure after the Matt thing she’d be done, through with it all. If it was anybody else, they’d be curled up in bed, mid-breakdown, and unable to function. But not her. I think that’s the problem. She’s functioning too well. I mean hell, look at Tiffany. She’s near catatonic, but Lennie, Lennie is just peachy. Except that she’s not. And she’s going to get us all killed. Goddammit. 

I’m not trying to be insensitive. Three months ago I would’ve wanted to save them too. I would’ve saved them. But not now. Not three fucking days after Matt. Matt. If I ever get my hands on that prick he’s gonna wish he was dead. She was right about one thing. I should have killed him when I had the chance. But how was I supposed to do that, when she was lying there like she was? Like Rianna was? Does she not understand? Of course not. She’s insane. Which should be no surprise really.

I need to sleep. I didn’t sleep for shit on the couch, and then with Len attacking me in her sleep. I didn’t really sleep much after Matt left. I couldn’t then. And I sure as hell ain’t gonna go to sleep here with that asshole around. Not around my sister and the others. I don’t know shit about him. So I sure as hell ain’t about to let my guard down around him. But I do need the sleep. I’m running on empty here. Nah. I don’t need sleep. I need to clear my head. Get rid of all this shit running through so I can focus on giving Lennie the tongue-lashing of her life. God, she is a fucking idiot. And we need to get rid of those two freeloaders.

———————

Hunting isn’t the same as it used to be. Back in the day, us guys would go to with dad for the weekend and half-ass it. But I can’t do that. Not anymore. Not when whatever I’ll catch, or not catch, could mean us starving. So I’ve got to focus. And luckily, hunting has always helped me to clear my head. Even when I was a kid. Even when we were just fooling around. Focus. Gotta find some tracks. Tracks. The last time I was out here we were following a deer. Lennie and I. She’s pretty good at tracking even though she’s basically just started learning how. It was later in the day and she was being less snappy than usual. But she wouldn’t say why, which was fine with me. One of the few things I do like about Len she that she doesn’t feel the need to talk about all the shit going through her mind. That’s a Godsend compared to all the other women I know.

But she’s always been quiet. Shy. Whatever the fuck you want to call it. For as long as I’ve known her, she’s always been that way. Which is fine. I couldn’t give two shits either way. But I remember that it bothered me that night. Everything bothered me that night. It was like the world was off it’s cosmic balance. And it was. Somehow I knew. Must of been instinct. I knew the second we came up to that cabin that something was wrong. I knew. And I knew as soon as we walked in things were going to shit.

———————

“Dude, we have to check it out. There could be supplies inside.”

Ha. Yeah right. This place looks like it had been abandoned long before the end of the world. And I told her as much. But she brushed me off. Big surprise. 

It happened in a rush. One minute we’re standing outside and the next we’re inside a decrepit bedroom, looking down at a Cad strapped to a bed. Not just strapped, bound. Spread out and tied down, naked, bloody. She was a blonde. It’s impossible to tell how she died, she’s been here awhile, but I’m guessing it has to do with the cut marks lining her frame. This girl was tortured, probably raped, and murdered. It’s the most disgusting thing I’ve ever seen and I can feel bile rising in my throat. But before I can do anything about it, I hear a gasp and the slam of a door. What the fuck? Lennie. She’s not in the room anymore. What is she—

But then I see it. The bracelet. Riane never took it off. Not once, no matter how many times it got tangled in something. She never took it off. This girl, this girl is wearing the bracelet. Riane. Riane, who was last seen with Matt. Matt, who told us the Cads got her. Matt, who is back at the farm right now.

————————

I shake my head. I can’t think about this now. I need to focus. I need to kill something so that I don’t rip Lennie’s head off when I get back. Stupid girl. She’s literally killing me. I can’t see through her logic, if there was any to begin with. Two strangers? She’s risking our lives for two strangers? She who is so cautious? She’s fucking lost it. Wouldn’t be the first time though, would it? I mean, she did have sex with me. And if that doesn’t prove that she’s out of her mind, I don’t know what does.

————————

It’s early. Even though it’s barely light out, my internal clock is screaming “Wake up!” Although that could have something to do with whoever is fidgeting beside me. Seriously, what are you doing? Can’t you just lay here silently until I have to get up for class. Or better yet, maybe you can help me be late for class. Classes. My classes. The last time I was in class we had to evacuate because of the virus. We went home, but everyone was gone, and then we went south. Into Kentucky and we found Lennie, the farm. Lennie. LENNIE. 

They threw us a party, some sort of welcome. It was late and we were all exhausted. but we stayed up anyway. I mean, come one. They had booze. Who’s gonna pass that up these days? So maybe I got a little bit drunk. And maybe I remember Lennie doing the same. And maybe I even remember going to bed with her. But one thing I certainly remember is the look she gives me when I turn over to face her. It’s a mix of horror, shame and hatred. She’s already halfway dressed and clearly trying to get out of here as quickly as possible. So that’s what all that movement was about. 

I open my mouth to say something, anything, but she beats me to it. “Don’t.” This one word is full of so much finality that I can’t even argue. Once she’s got her boots on, she stands and leaves the room. Later I see her burning the sheets. Way to kill my ego.

———————

I don’t think she realizes how utterly fierce she can be, when she tries. When she’s confident enough. It’s astonishing. In all the years I’ve know Lennie, I’ve only seen this level of certainty a few times. The first was back in high school, when I barely knew she existed. That’s not true, I knew, I just didn’t care. We weren’t friends, didn’t even hang out with the same people. Skaters, potheads and artsy types were not my thing. And I she definitely didn’t fit it with the jocks and partiers I hung out with. The only overlap in our lives were honors classes. I swear, our high school had a serious shortage in smart kids. So the ones they had, were in all the same classes, for the most part.

There was this one time, senior year when we were paired for a project. It was really the only time we’d ever spent five minutes in each other’s presence and I was excited for it to be the last. Sure, she had that whole, old school beauty thing going on with her long brown hair and big eyes. Not to mention her fantastic rack. But I would never be caught dead hanging out with a loser like her. Something that I told my buddy Phil, not realizing that she was directly behind me. When I shifted to face her, I can only describe the scene as potent. I knew right then that this girl was not to be messed with. She turned ready to walk away, but she looked back at the last second, and my eyes found hers. I couldn’t look away. Her voice was soft but unbelievably strong, and smooth, melodic. It was like a drug. “You know, you should really make sure you don’t have shit on your face before you call someone a loser. Asshole.”

We didn’t stay in touch after graduation, but honestly, why would we? I remember hearing from somewhere that she dropped out of college in her first semester and moved to another state. But I still can’t say that I cared. 

The next time I saw her was after the outbreak. The six of us, D, Wes, Leah, Patrick, Ryan and I, had been walking for a long ass time. After leaving what remained of our hometown we decided to head south maybe towards Fort Knox. We were on the road for nearly three months and just about done. With everything. We’d gotten attacked by both people and Cads, run off-course multiple times and were half starved. After trying to avoid a herd near Louisville, we were heading straight for Lexington. Straight towards death if we hadn’t been lucky. But we were lucky that day. And luck came in the form of Lennie Gibson.

———————

We’re surrounded. Completely. There’s no way in hell we’re getting out of this one. Fuck. Fucking fuck. I’m going to die in this hick town and that will be that. I’m going to be eaten alive. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fu—

Something flies out of nowhere and the Cad about to take a chunk out of my arm is gone. Down on the ground. If I had time to look, I’d see that it had an arrow sticking out of it’s forehead. But I don’t. I’m still hacking away. There’s at least 30 of them left. I can’t see my sister. Or my brothers. I can’t see anyone other than the dead. I just keep swinging away, trying to catch a glimpse of my family. 

It seems almost suddenly that there are no more Cads. It’s like they all just decided to die at once. Thank the fucking Lord. I’m alive. I turn to scan the area, looking for people, for my family. And they’re all right there. They’re fine, trying to catch their breath. But before I can make another move, I hear the all-too-familiar groans of the dead. I ready myself and spin around, in a fighting stance. But they are already being taken care of. By some whirling blur of a person. What the fuck? Seriously, I’ve never seen anyone move like this before. So graceful and fast. Is it even human?

When dead were finally dead again and she stood still I didn’t even recognize her. She was covered in blood and flesh, her hair was in a mess and she was heaving from the exertion. Not to mention her clothing was unlike anything she’d worn through high school, and she had various weapons strapped to her body. She was a warrior. And nothing like the girl I once made fun of. I did however recognize her voice. So when she said, “Of course it’s you. Assholes,” I knew I was in for it.

————————  
And standing in front of her now, holding a fighting stance that mirrors my own, I see her ferocity. She’s yelling about something. I can barely remember what we fighting about in the first place. I sought her out after returning from my “hunt” and we got into it. Shouting and screaming in the middle of the yard. I vaguely remember the others disappearing, thankfully. They don’t tend to stick around when we argue. But then the focus of our problems came out, probably to see what was going on. Maybe to see if murder would be involved. Everyone loves a good show. 

She’s still yelling. I’m not even listening at this point. Neither of us is going to give in and what’s done is done. I duck my head and give it a shake, before looking up to cut her off, intent on just getting out of this discussion. But when I do look up, there’s movement behind her. Focusing in, my eyes widen. Chris. He’s carrying Ana. Blood. There’s blood everywhere. A scream erupts from somewhere and Lennie spins just in time to see a Cad comes out of nowhere and takes a bit out of his neck. And then Lennie is the one screaming.


	10. Chapter Ten

(LENNIE POV)

I awaken to a dark room. I'm not entirely sure what happened. I'm not even sure what day it is, or how much time has passed. I go to rise from the bed but my movements are sluggish and clearly forced. Every part of me wants to stay curled up in this bed forever, but I have to know that truth. Was that some sort of sick dream? Or was it reality? Please, please let this be a dream. 

But the instant I'm out of bed and standing on two legs, I know the truth. The achy feeling flowing through my body is not just from immobility. It's from exertion. From extreme muscle use. Muscles I overworked while slaying Cads. The Cads who killed Chris and Ana. And maybe others. All I remember is seeing one bite into Chris's flesh, and the color red. Red like blood. Red like fire. Red like revenge. 

I stretch as best as I can, my arms, legs and core screaming at me to stop, and move towards the door, not even bothering to look for shoes in the dark. Only when I jab my knee on the end of a dresser do I realize that this is not my room. I could walk around my room blind, deaf and dumb and still know where everything is. This is not my room. My only clue as to where I am is the smell. It's distinctly...Leighton. Musky and manly with a hint of arrogance. Yep, this is Leighton's room. But why am I in here? Oh that's right. Dreamy and his sister are here. Are they still here? Depending on how long I've been out of it, the others may have already decided to throw the pair to the wolves. Especially if they had something to do with the Cads getting through the fence. We haven't had a breach in almost three months. 

But when would they've had time to cut a hole in the fence? Except for the gate, it's a solid two feet thick, of brick, metal and oak. There are only a few weak spots. They wouldn't have known about those, being here only a night. Beckett and Olivia wouldn't have known. But someone who'd spent a fair amount of time on guard duty would have. Someone like Matt.That motherfucker. 

I open the door a crack, thankful it doesn't squeak. I'm not sure if I want the others to know I'm up yet. They'll want to talk to me and I don't like to talk about things. Except with Chris. Chris. Goddammit. I will not cry. I will not cry. I've got things to do, assholes to kill. I can breakdown over the death of my oldest friend and his daughter later. Right now, I need a plan. 

I don't hear anyone moving about, so I open the door a bit wider, taking a peek. Ry is down at the end of the center aisle, snoozing. So much for keeping watch. But to be fair, the last few days have been quite eventful, to say the least. A good portion of that is my fault. Stupid, stupid.

In the beginning I wondered how the others could stand to sleep in the converted barn, that constantly smelled like horse shit, no matter how much we aired it out. Now I know that even having a roof and a bed is a feat within itself. Tif, Wes, Leah, Ry and Patrick sleep in the stalls-turned bedrooms. Leighton claimed the old break room as his own. It’s the only on with a real door and his own sink. Really, we were lucky that the barn was big enough to provide living space for our refugees along with what animals remained. The smell though. I guess you get used to it.

I start moving down the walkway. I know I can get past Ry without waking him. Guy could sleep through and elephant march. But I’ve barely made my way out the door when I hear someone clearing their throat. Of course. I forgot to look up. 

My eyes search their way through the dark, landing on a shadowed man sitting in the loft, with his legs hanging out over the edge. Though I can’t see them, I can feel his eyes raking over me, looking for a flaw. His favorite pastime. With a sigh I head towards the ladder, making a slow climb. My arms are seriously burning. 

When I reach the top Leighton scoots to the left, leaving me more space to sit down. I take up a position that matches his own, and we fall into an easy silence. He knows what it’s like. To lose someone. We all do at this point. It’s impossible not to. But he knows. And he knows that I need the quiet. 

———

I’m not sure how long we sit there in silence, swinging our legs to some unheard beat. The sun rises and with it comes with the morning sounds of a farm. It’s almost normal. You could almost forget what the world is like now. We sit for awhile longer before Leighton reaches over and places a hand on my knee. I look over at him, surprised. What is he doing?! Touching is one of the unwritten rules. We don’t do it.

But when I look at his face, into his eyes, it shows. It being everything he wants me to know without words. And it’s perfect. Because it’s impossible to put into words what it feels like to lose your best friend, your brother, your soulmate. If there even is such a thing. If there was, there isn’t anymore. Things like soulmates, hope, love; they don’t exist in this world we’ve been thrown into. But I get what he’s “saying” and it’s nice. More than nice. In fact I think it breaks me. 

But he’s gone, jumping down the ladder to start on cleaning out the stalls before I can blink, as if I dreamed the whole thing. I could have. It’s no secret to me that my mind has been graced with a not-so-subtle crack which is continually splitting further apart. So instead of making my way down to ground level and working on my plan, I sit in the loft and sob silently.


	11. Chapter Eleven

Constant - Chapter 11

We’re having one of our famous talks. A good one. I say famous because these are the ones we remember years down the road. Most of them are fights. Like the time in middle school when he broke my necklace. Or when he chose Jeni over me. But every once in awhile, it’s a good one. Like when we talked about how love is flexible, and the time he offered my a bandaid for my broken heart. I can’t tell which way this one will fall.

We’ve just come back from a run into town, and it was…bad. We lost Javier. It’s just been us for so long, we didn’t even think twice about there being other people in town, scavenging like us. We didn’t know that people could be so cruel. We hadn’t lost our faith in humanity, yet. But now we’re here, we made it back home. We’re not the same people we were when we left. 

I can see him breaking as soon as he steps out of the car. He takes off towards the wheat field before looking for Ana. That’s how I know. The routine hug from his daughter has been forgone for his mental health. I can understand. I’m right there with him. But I’m scared. Chris has always been the optimistic one of us. If he’s the one who breaks, who's going to put us back together?

I catch up to him easily, once he stops moving. Well, when he stops darting away. Now he’s just pacing, mumbling something about being a murderer. But if he’s one, then I am too. So that can’t be. It’s not allowed. 

So I stand and wait for him to stop. He will when he’s ready, when he needs to talk. But when he turns towards me with wild eyes and pure agony written across his face. It nearly ruins me. To see him like this, so distressed. “I killed somebody.” He says it so simply, like he’s just commented on the weather. I don’t even get a chance to open my mouth before he says it again, with much more bluster. “I KILLED somebody.”

It seems like I’m going to have to be the positive one this time. That’s something I’ve never been good at. I’m not good at comforting. It’s almost as bad as accepting comfort. Definitely not my forte. But I’ll do it, this time. For him. So I look at him straight in the eye. ”So did I.” And I did. I’m a killer now. But murder? No. We did what we had to do. So I try to reason with him. “They were going to kill us.”

“I killed—”

“They are going to KILL us, Chris—”

“But I—”

“It doesn’t matter—”

“Yes it do—”

“Chris—”

“I DIDN’T EVEN BLINK!” His shout deafens any thoughts I had on the matter, and all I can do, is blink. “I didn’t—I didn’t think twice. I didn’t care. It was easy for me. I KILLED someone, and I didn’t even care.”

I’m frozen where I stand, gaze burning into the ground. My thoughts flee my mind. How do I respond to that? What could I possibly say that could fix this? Nothing. There’s nothing. But I have to try. “You—”

“I’d do it again.” My head shoots up in surprise and I stare into his broken face. “I’d do it again, for Ana. For you. I’d kill whoever it takes to keep you safe. How jaded is that?” His voice cracks as he speaks but I have to agree with him. Five months into this twisted world and we’ve become fractions of our former selves. We’ve molded into these, creatures of uncertainty, never knowing if what we’re doing to survive makes of worthy of living. 

But that’s just it, isn’t it. We do have we have to do to survive. We are capable of making decisions that could mean life or death. We are strong enough to survive. “It’s not jaded, Chris. It’s—We’re survivors. Look at us. Look at everything that’s happened to us. These…things, and this life. We do what we have to because we are strong.”

I’ve never been good at raising spirits. I’m even worse at giving good advice. That’s his job. And from the way he’s shaking his head, I’d say that he agrees with me. “What’s the difference between strong and jaded? I don’t want to lose who I am to live this life.”

——————

I wake with a start, the way I have for days now. It’s never the same dream, often times consisting of more horrific scenes. But this one in comparison, was rather nice. More memory than dream. A heartbreaking memory. That was the day I started to lose him. The real him. The old Chris. Taking a life. It changed him. It changed both of us, really. In ways that can never be undone.

It’s been a week now, of restless nights, since we buried them. Ana and Chris, side by side in our graveyard, next to Riane and Mel’s husband Frank. It was impossible to recover the others. 

I’ve taken to sleeping in the loft. Beckett and Olivia are still using my room and Leighton reclaimed his room. Despite his offer, I have no desire to share. Things have been at a standstill. I move along with the tide of the day with no true objective, no path to guide me. In short, I’m in a funk and I have no intention of ridding myself of it. 

I do have things to do. I know I do. I have an murderous rapist to track down and revenge to enact. Matt needs to pay for what he’s done, and I’m just the one to put him in his place. I just need a little push.

——————

In the end, it’s El who talks me through it. Well, yells me through it. She’s the only one who dares come near me these days, other than Becky and Jax. I’ve been in a mood, to say the least. I could blame it in part on the visitors occupying my bedroom for the past week, that no one has bothered to kick out yet. I guess that’s probably my job too. I could also blame it on the migraine that has been plaguing me. Or it could be the constant thoughts running through my mind hamster-wheel style. In the end, it takes a slap in the face to snap me out of it. 

“Snap out of it!” It’s a surprise to say the least. I can’t say I hadn’t been expecting it, however I wasn’t thinking it’d be her. Then again, pregnancy hormones are a crazy thing. Emphasis on the crazy. “You need to get a grip already, and get over it.” Still reeling from the blow I can only look at her in shock. When I don’t speak, she continues. “I get it. I do, I really do. But he’s dead and I know it’s killing you, but you’re still here and I’m about to have a baby and I need my best friend. I need you to be here. Not half of you, are part of you, we need YOU. So wake up and be Lennie and stop hiding away and do something.” 

She’s begging. I can see it now. She’s scared and she had every reason to be. The world has fallen apart and here we are, trying to get by. I mean, she about to have a baby. Even before she wasn’t keen on the idea, but now? Now, there are no doctors. No hospitals, no meds. All we have is Mel, an equine vet and Becky, a retired nurse. And with the Matt thing looming over us, she has every right to be scared. We all should be. 

But she knows. I may be worried and angry, but never scared. Fear doesn’t exist to me. Not anymore. I don’t have space for it. 

“I—”

“No, seriously.” She cuts me off. “Get a grip Lennie. We need you.” And with that she walks away. Very Eloise of her. 

She leaves me standing next to fire pit with even more thoughts than to begin with. But she’s right. It’s time to get over it. Well. I’ll never get over it. Not really. Chris was—my deepest friend. And now he’s gone, forever. 

I can’t let it slow me down. Not if I want revenge. For Chris and Ana, Riane and Tif and anyone else that bastard got his hands on. I need to get back in the game, to come up with a plan of action. One of offense rather than defense. Unfortunately for me, those with the best made plans happen to belong to a certain family. Dil was in the army. Leighton was in training to become a police officer. Wes was an All-State football player. Actually all three of them were. And Leah. Our dear Leah was vice president in a very popular sorority, so she’s clearly got a few game-changers up her sleeve. I need a plan, and it’s time to assemble my war council. Time to summon the Perkins.

Why is it that I can never get away from these people?


	12. Chapter Twelve

Constant - Chapter 12

(LENNIE'S POV)

It’s not hard to find him. I barely even had to look. He’s just walked back through the main gate with Leah in tow, a doe tied to a large stick in between them. Good haul, I think to myself before shaking the thought from my head. I’ve got things I need to do. No time to be thinking about food. Then again, when was the last time I ate?

He’s saying something to Ry, who’s laughing. They all have smiles on their faces. How can they do that? We just lost two of our people, and they're laughing at some joke?

But I can’t get angry. I can’t let myself. Life is shorter than usual these days, and we can use every smile we’re afforded. I’ll save my anger for Matt.

I stay standing where I am, about 100 yards away. But he can see me. He knows I’m here for him, and the grin falls from his face. Speaking to Ry, I watch as he hand over his end of the stick before moving towards me, face set. I imagine it matched my own. That “I’m Ready to Get Even” face. But even with who? Sometimes it’s a toss up whether he’s more pissed at me or, well, anything else. I think I’m usually winning that one.

As he gets closer I can see that his clothing is stained with dark blood. It would seem like they had some trouble out there, but nothing the Perkin’s can’t handle. When he’s a few steps away he jerks his head toward the barn and keeps moving, never slowing his pace. Probably a smart move that we don’t have this argument where all eyes can see us. And an argument it will be. This is Leighton and I.

His long legs reach his bedroom much faster than my short ones, and I’m surprised to see his naked back as I walk inside. “Um…” 

“Shut the door, will you? Not everyone wants to watch me change my clothes,” he says turning towards me with a smirk on his face. That’s because they haven’t seen you naked before, I start to say before stopping myself. We SO don’t need to have that conversation, ever. 

Not wanting to dwell on the little things, I jump right in. “We need a plan.” He quirks an eyebrow and starts to unzip his jeans. Seriously, bro? “About Matt,” I say, “We…Could you not do that?”

The bastard. His smirk widens into a full out grin. “Is this bothering you? You are the one standing in my bedroom watching me get undressed.”

I roll my eyes and cross my arms across my chest. “I need to talk to you. Seriously.”

“So talk. No one is stopping you.” Still grinning. Ugh. I shift my weight to my other hip and sigh, giving him a look. "What?" he asks. "Am I distracting you or something?" I want to punch that grin off his face. 

Because no, him standing in front of me half naked with his pants undone, with his tanned skin and those sculpted abs, and that stupid smile on his face is so not distracting to me. It's not. I swear. I make some sort of growling noise that I hope sounds more like an angry growl and not a hungry one, then turn to leave the room. I'm obviously not going to get anywhere talking to this idiot. Dillion would probably be the better choice anyway. 

As I reach for the door handle a hand grabs my wrist and pulls it away. Turning my head to the side, I look up into steel blue eyes. Does he really need to stand this close to me? "What?"

"I'm listening. What's up?" And I can tell he is. The grin is gone, as are all traces of playfulness. 

"Matt. We need a plan and we need to find him. Now." My voice is hard. I barely even recognize it as my own. I guess that's what this world does to us. 

He sets his jaw and nods. "Found some prints out on the hunt this morning, fresh. Coulda been his but I'm not sure." 

My eyes widen and then focus in. "How close?" 

"About two miles out. Headed east." 

I nod and frown. If he's sticking that close he's definitely been watching us. But from where? Most of the farm rests atop a hill and everything nearby is low-ground and open. We'd be able to see him if he came close to the wall. Letting out an exasperated breath I turn my head back towards the closed door. I can't look at him when I say this. "I want him dead Leighton. He's deserves it and I want him gone. As soon as possible." 

I hear him sigh and the hand on my wrist tightens. "I know Princess. We'll keep looking. A few of us can go out--" 

"Now. We'll go now," I say, facing him again. "Unless you're busy?"

I stares at me for a few seconds, long enough to make me a bit uncomfortable, like he's looking for something. But then nods his head. "Three days, you and me. We'll tell them we're looking for meds." 

With a plan in motion I pull my arm free and swing the door open to head to my room. Despite the fact that our new friends are currently occupying it, I still keep the majority of my things in there. It's not like I really have anywhere else to put them. But when I get to the door of my small apartment, I stop. I've avoided this place as much as possible since it happened, sending others to grabs clothing or weapons for me. It's too full of memories, of late night talks and messy dinners, before and after the turn. I know that if I walk inside it will feel empty without Chris's loud voice and his little Ana's laughter. I don't want to go inside. But my pack is in there. 

Just as I work up the nerve to open the door, it swings open revealing a freshly cleaned, and slightly surprised Beckett. The smell of Chris's soap fills my nose and I am instantly angered. Irrational, I know, and yet there it is. He gives me a questioning look that probably has to do with the expression on my face. I know I don't look happy. 

"Everything alright?" His voice is deep and smooth and if I was anywhere near contented it'd probably be something akin to soothing. But I am so not there. 

"Fine," I bite out. 

My tone is not lost on him and he frowns slightly. "If you want us to leave then--"

"No. It's fine." Keeping things short and simple. Now this I can do. 

He studies me for a second then nods, just barely. "Are you--"

"I'm fine." 

He frowns again. It's not a good look for him. "You seems to like that word." At my questioning look he continues. "'Fine.' You seem to like it. Though in my experience, people who like to overuse words like 'fine', usually aren't." 

My eyes bore into his and I wish he was wrong. But I hardly know this guy and I won't be expressing any of my feelings to him. "Last time I checked, you weren't my therapist. Now if you excuse me, I have things to do. Brushing past him, I make my way inside and to my bedroom, flinging open my closet to grab my go-bag. I spin around to walk back out and slam into his hardened chest. "What?!" I ask angrily. People getting in my personal space is something I do not tolerate. 

He takes a step back and looks at me from head to toe. It's unnerving. "Where are you going?" 

"I'm pretty sure that's not any of your business." I go to brush past him again, but he sticks out his arm, blocking my path. Before I was just slightly angry. But now I'm pissed. Giving him a death glare, I step into his personal bubble. "Is there something you need? Because I have places to be and you're in my way. So why don't you move your fucking ass out of my way and I won't stomp you into the ground."

This fucker. This mother fucking son of a bitch does nothing except lift his eyebrow and tries to hide his smile. I mean sure. Normally, it would be funny that a 5-foot tall girl is trying to threaten a guy who is at least a foot taller and very clearly much stronger than her. But it just pisses me off even more that he's being so nonchalant about it. 

Before I can open my mouth to harass him some more I see movement behind him and turn my head to see Leighton standing in the doorway. Also sensing his presence, Beckett half-turns to see who it is. With his eyes shifting between Beckett and I, and out close proximity, Leighton's face turns to stone. "Everything alright in here?" 

My eyes flicker up to Beckett's face before going back to Leighton's. "Yeah, we're fine. Let's go." I push Beckett’s arm down and out of the way, then move past him roughly bumping into him, grabbing the handle of my bag in the process. And I may or may not repeated this action while passing by Leighton.

—————————

We’ve decided to move in a spiral pattern, checking as many buildings as we can until we find him. Or something that can be linked to him. I’ll admit, spending three days in the woods with Leighton Fucking Perkins isn’t my idea of a good time, but I wouldn’t have chosen anyone else. While I’d normally rather spend my days pulling off my own fingernails, but we work well together, surprisingly. I don’t know why. We fight most of the time and when we’re not it’s probably because we’re not even speaking to each other. But when it matters, when shit gets serious and blood starts to flow, it’s game on. We’re so in sync it’s nearly unbelievable. Actually, if you know us it is unbelievable.

And yet here we are, walking through the forest checking for signs of a murderer. 

We left the farm nearly four hours ago and headed back to where Leighton saw the tracks with Leah, before eventually following them back towards the mill. It’s no surprise that he went this way. If we kept walking in this direction for another two miles we’d hit the place where we found Riane. He must have a place somewhere around here. Which is exactly what I’m counting on.

Leighton is about ten steps ahead and to the side of me when he lets out a quick, low whistle. Hurrying to his side I scan the ground for what he’s seen. Footprints. A lot of them, all over the place. There was a struggle here. But was it people vs. people? Or people vs. Cad? There’s a few spots of dried blood around the prints, but it’s too old to tell if it was fresh or decayed. But seeing as there are no corpses just laying around, I’m going for a human struggle.

“We should look around.” He nods and motions to the left, heading that way, me going the opposite.

It only takes me a few minutes to find it. Bright pink doesn’t exactly blend in with the greens and browns of a forest floor even when it’s filthy from weeks of wear. A child’s backpack. A little girl’s. I think there’s some sort of Disney princess on it. I can’t tell with all the dirt and grime. I just stand there and stare at it.

Where is she? Where is the girl this belongs too? In the belly of a beast? Or in the clutches of another?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please remember to leave comments and kudos! :)


	13. Chapter Thirteen

Constant - Chapter Thirteen 

(LEIGHTON'S POV)

I knew it was him. The second Lennie found that bag, I knew. Those tracks, the fight, could’ve been anybody. But when I saw her staring down at that bag, I knew it was him. And I knew she knew too.

The sun is starting to set, and we’re about an hour away from the house of horrors now, moving quickly. Neither of us spoke that that was where we’re going, but we both started heading in that direction. The last time I headed out this way was to collect Riane’s body with Chris, Patrick and D. I hadn’t wanted to come back, but someone had to show them the way. And Lennie wasn’t exactly fit for the job at the time. When I get my hands on that fucker…

“Hey,” she pulls me out of my thoughts, “you in this?” I hadn’t even noticed that she stopped walking. She wants an honest answer. I can tell by the look on her face. Honesty, even if she doesn’t like the results.

“Hell yes. Is that even a question?” My voice is harder than I expected it to be. But then again, I excepted her to trust me on this. Apparently not.

Her eyes widen like she didn’t think I’d question her. “I’m just making sure.” Like it’s obvious. Well it’s fucking not.

“Excuse me if I’m wrong, but it seems like you don’t trust me.” I can’t help but let a bit of anger into my words. After everything, she still doesn’t trust me? What the actual fuck.

She throws her head back and exhales loudly. I’m sure she rolled her eyes too. “Can we not do this now. I’m pretty sure we have more important things to be doing. Like killing a killer.” She starts walking forward again towards the house, moving past me.

I stick my arm out to block her path, stoping her in her tracks. “Apparently we need to. You don’t trust me.”

“I never said that,” she says, rolling her head to face me with a look of exasperation. 

“You didn’t have to,” I deadpan.

For the second time today her eyes widen in surprise at what I’ve said. “I don’t like you. It doesn’t mean that I don’t trust you.”

I feel a grin starting to form on my face. She walked right into this one. “You sure seemed to like me that night.” Her mouth drops open to gape at me and I’d be amazed if her eyes could get any bigger. “What was it you said? Oh that’s right. ‘Leighton. Leighton! Yes! Harder! Don’t stop!’” I’m full on smiling now, enjoying her discomfort.

Her face turns to stone. “I never said that.” If looks could kill, I’d already be lounging in hell.

I smirk at her again. “We must remember it differently then,” I say, before turning and restarting our trek.

__________________________________

(LENNIE’S POV)

It takes me a minute to process the conversation we’ve just had.What? Did he really just bring that up? Now, of all times? I can’t believe he did that. What the fuck?

By the time I’ve righted myself he’s already about 20 feet ahead of me. Well alrighty then. I know we’re close to the place where we found Riane, but I’m not absolutely positive on it’s exact location. The last time we were here together, we had really just stumbled upon it, and I ended up running out of there pretty fast. I hadn’t planned on coming back, ever. But here I am, walking a similar path as the one I did just weeks ago, with the same man, yet with a different purpose.

I have no way of knowing how long that backpack had been laying there. A day? A week? Was it there the last time we passed through? I don’t remember seeing it. I just hope the girl it belonged to is safe.

By the time we make it to the run down house night has fallen and the forrest is silent. Almost too quiet for comfort. There’s a light inside. We’re standing just behind the treelike, hidden by the dark that has taken over these woods. But there’s a light. There’s no mistaking it. I inhale and deeply and as quietly as I can trying to stay clam. It could be anybody in there. Literally anyone. Which means it could be him. 

I spare a glance towards Leighton, catching his eye. We speak without words, agreeing that we have to go in. We have to make sure.

There are two doors into the house, I remember. One directly in front of us and one around the back leading into the small kitchen. As Leighton moves towards the back of the house, I make my way to the front door, careful not to step in view of the window. Part of me wants to burst into the house screaming like a banshee and waving my gun around but another part of me remembers to be silent and play it cool. I need to give Leighton time to ready himself before I burst in. I just need to remember not to scream.

I wait a full three minutes and then roll my shoulders and reach for the door handle. This could go so many ways and about ninety percent of them are negative. I take a deep breath and turn the knob, stepping into through the doorway.

That’s as far as I make it. I cannot move. That’s where Leighton finds me a minute later, staring at the scene before me. 

He found her. Whoever she was. Whoever’s little girl she was. He found her and she is no more. 

__________________________________

I don’t remember leaving the house. I don’t remember walking through the forrest. I don’t even remember if Leighton checked the rest of the house. I just remember standing in cabin we found, he found, and staring at him as I started to break down. It feels was though my heart is being pulled from my chest. 

She was just a little girl.How could someone do that?

Leighton is covering the windows with sheets, nailing them to walls. I’m not sure how long we walked but it’s almost sunrise. Must have been hours, but I was in a daze. I still am. I don’t understand how he’s holding it together because I’m about to break into pieces. But maybe that’s why. He has to because I can’t.

I’m still in a haze as I start to cry, and as he pulls me into his arms. I can’t think as a put my face in his neck and reach for his belt. I miss his questioning look and frown as I pull my shirt over my head and push him back onto the moth-eaten couch. I can barely feel his fingertips ghosting over my skin or the press of his lips on mine as I try to make it all go away. 

As we lay there tangled together, after, I hear him speaking to me, but I have no idea what he’s saying. When I don’t answer, he doesn't press. We just lie in this dirty old cabin like we don’t even care.

We both know how broken I am. And he just lets me be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to be taking a rather long hiatus from this story. I'm just not feeling inspired to write it anymore. Thanks for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Please remember to review!


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